One boring October day we went to the only coffee shop in suburban Newtown, PA we came up with the idea to create an anonymous underground zine. We needed a medium outside the available literary magazines in which to take risks. Every month the zine would be published in a smoke filled basement room secretly scattered around our campus, waiting to be found. This is our story.
~ The Interrobang Team
Before me rose a mountain range, old and forgotten: a vista of West Virginia Appalachia, yet somehow familiar. My mind tossed and turned in search – I knew those colors… the crusted peaks of a forgotten zit, old and overlooked. And as I felt the despair of the crusted sit it began to open slowly, and out oozed the little frustrated children. I watched in amused confusion as they cleaned themselves, wiping from their hair the fluffy white stuffing of a couch. Then I understood. The mountain’s wizened zit was naught but a rip, a tear in the leather of a sofa.
Turning over again, my hand thumps against the floor and without opening my sleep-encrusted eyes I felt around in the darkness, searching for something that would bring me out of the absurd. I sit up, and crack open my eyes to observe the dusty pile of objects I have just dragged onto my lap. Atop the mountain of things from beneath my bed lies the first issue of a zine entitled “Things that got Lost in the Couch.” I sneezed.